


the side effects of snowstorms

by androgynousmikewheeler



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Canon Autistic Character, Innuendo, Internalized Homophobia, Les Misérables References, M/M, Religious Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:40:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27449530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/androgynousmikewheeler/pseuds/androgynousmikewheeler
Summary: When a storm delays their flight, Morgan and Reid have just about nothing to do.
Relationships: Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid
Comments: 4
Kudos: 109





	the side effects of snowstorms

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Prettything_uglylie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prettything_uglylie/gifts).



"Flight's delayed," Reid calls as the wind slams the motel room door. He rolls his neck, working out a kink, and flops onto the bed, bouncing Morgan's nearly packed bag. 

Morgan groans. "Why?"

Reid's gloved hands swirl in the air above his head. "Blizzard warning. All flights are grounded. And no one's supposed to be on the roads, either."

This groan is louder than the last. "Can we ignore the warning? Nowheresville, Kansas isn't exactly my scene."

Reid rolls his eyes. "We're in Nebraska."

Morgan throws a rolled up pair of socks at him, bouncing softly against his cheek. "Wherever we are, I want out."

"Hotch said we'll most likely be delayed," Reid wiggles his hand, "about a day."

Morgan zips up his bag and tosses it into the floor, collapsing onto the bed in its place. "And what exactly are we supposed to do in Nowheresville, Kansas–"

"Still Nebraska."

–"for a day?"

Reid pokes him in the shoulder, voice mockingly pitying. "Awww, is poor Derek Morgan stuck with me for a whole day? Will he have to listen to me rant about Star Trek and commedia dell'arte for an entire 86,400 seconds?"

With Reid's ear less than six inches away, Morgan's groan is near deafening. "What circle of hell is this?"

Reid laughs. "This is number one, the only kind of bad one."

"Why can't we just get burned alive? At least it wouldn't be so cold."

Reid rolls onto his side to look at him. "What's your problem with Nebraska?"

"It's _negative twelve_ outside!"

He just looks at Morgan, unconvinced. 

Morgan sighs. "The alley behind this hotel is covered in homophobic slurs and I haven't seen a single black person since we got here." He shrugs, jostling the mattress. "Also, _not_ a fan of cornfields. They're creepy."

"Well, good news and bad news. Weather warnings suggest everyone remain indoors, which means you don't have to deal with the locals," Morgan gives a half-hearted cheer, "but you do have to deal with me."

Strong fingers ruffle Reid's already unkempt hair. "I suppose I can manage that."

Reid grins for a moment before wincing. "Oh, and pretty much every kind of reception is down."

Morgan rolls face down and groans into the sheets. A muffled, " _Fuck me!_ " accompanies it.

Reid laughs. "That is essentially all there is to do. Unless you read French."

"I do not."

"Well, then, my copy of _Les Misérables_ is useless to both of us. I've read it three times while we've been here." 

Morgan elbows him. "Ah, yes, I also read _Les Mis_ three times this week."

Reid's voice drips with put on pride. "In the original French." 

"Oh, pardon me. In the original French."

" _Sois sérieux._ " Reid mumbles, a joke to himself.

" _No hablo francés_."

"Clearly." Reid wrinkles his nose and taps his fingers before bouncing himself upright. "We could play poker," he suggests, less than enthused.

Morgan props himself up on his elbows. "Now look who's bored."

He sticks his tongue out at him. "I figured if I started on homoerotic homages to Greek mythology, you'd walk back to D.C. Hence, poker."

"I would not walk to D.C. I'd _drive_." He sticks out a hand to stop Reid from pulling out his cards. "But I'm not bored enough to let you take all my money."

Reid pouts. "What do you propose, then, given that you've vetoed all of my ideas?"

Morgan wiggles his eyebrows and grins, his voice an exaggerated whisper, "Tell me a secret, Doctor Reid. One you've never told anyone else."

Reid sighs and flings himself back onto the mattress. "Why, Mister Morgan," he drawls in a truly wretched replication of a southern accent, "I'm afraid I'm most hopelessly in love with you."

Morgan deepens his own voice even further, the spine-tingling bass of a romantic hero, tinged with the love of a good joke. "And why would you call that hopeless?"

Reid rolls onto his side, faces close enough to feel each other's breath on their skin. "Could you ever really love someone like me?" The accent fades, his last word barely more than an artless exhale. 

Morgan freezes. The drop in his stomach, the aching truth in Reid's eyes, the answer, simple and awful, clawing through his chest.

He jerks himself upwards in one sudden movement, sitting on the edge of the bed, every muscle tensed.

Reid sits up beside him, holding himself back from comforting Morgan. "I didn't... I'm sorry, that was stupid."

Morgan studies his knees. "Jokes aren't really your strong suit, kid."

"I'll keep that in mind when I tell one. But I don't think that's my problem today. I'm just doing a poor job reading social cues."

Guilt and hope strangle his voice. "What do you think they're saying?" Unable to meet Reid's eyes, his gaze stumbles to a halt on his lips. 

He rests a bony hand over Morgan's where it lies on his thigh. "I think you want me to kiss you."

He gulps. "Maybe you're not doing such a bad job."

Reid's voice shakes. "Do you think I should do something about it?"

"If you want to." 

Long fingers hook around the back of his neck, urging him to look up, to meet those damn puppy dog eyes, and then they're flickering closed, and Reid is kissing him.

Reid is kissing him. Reid is kissing him. _Reid is kissing him._

_Holy shit._

For a moment, his mind flashes with hours spent knelt on a pew, the disappointed eyes watching him, the kiss of a man the ultimate betrayal. 

But maybe in the gentle light, soft skin against his cheek, bedraggled curls brushing his forehead, a knobby knee pushing against his own, a kinder god is waiting for him. 

He pushes it all away. He kisses Reid, the kiss of a man the ultimate devotion. 

Maybe this is how it feels to be holy.

And if their journey isn't over...

Well, they've got plenty of time to figure it out.


End file.
